


Reveries

by DM (dragonmist310)



Category: DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/pseuds/DM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim doesn't know when this habit of his had begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reveries

Tim doesn’t know when this habit of his had begun. He can’t quite place it at a specific point but he can at least remember the first time he’d done it. It was so strange how something so simple could suddenly become that reassuring.

The first time Tim had fallen asleep beside Conner was almost by accident. They had stumbled into Titans Tower at an ungodly hour of the morning after a long mission, smelling of smoke and sweat and a little bit like blood, exhausted down to their core. Bart couldn’t even walk properly without Cassie holding him up. Tim was in a similar position, needing to Conner to support his weight because of the badly bruised ribs he had probably sustained during the course of his skirmish with the not-so-garden-variety giant robot-alien-vampire thing. Each of them had stumbled into the nearest unoccupied bedroom, too tired to care whether or not it was theirs. Tim’s room was on the far end of the floor, strategically chosen of course, but that had been in a situation in which every single bone in his body _hadn’t_ been aching.

They had stumbled into Conner’s room and he had helped Tim to the bed. Tim had barely removed his gauntlet before Conner rushed back with a glass of water and painkillers. It was impressive that the meta had that much energy left in him, but then he flopped down next to Tim, apparently having used up the last of his reserves. Tim downed the tasteless pills and left the glass on the bedside counter alongside the alarm clock and picture frame. He just managed to remove the outermost of his uniform before simply succumbing to the fatigue that had been creeping in since the team had given out a victory howl at the success of their mission. He had given himself up to the sweet embrace of sleep before his head hit the pillow.

They had both woken some unspecified amount of hours later, only mildly surprised at each other’s presence. But they’d been through so much together that the whole ordeal had ended almost as wordlessly as it had begun.

“Morning,” Conner had yawned, still half-asleep. At the time Tim hadn’t thought much of the close proximity of his best friend’s face to his own. It had happened before, but, context, and this time wasn’t unusual, all things considered. But a subconscious part of his brain had apparently catalogued it regardless, if only to torture the conscious part in the future.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Tim corrected before collecting the scattered parts of his uniform mechanically. His voice was still slightly hoarse and there was still a dull ache… everywhere, but he had felt relatively better. “I’ll see you downstairs—let’s just order in today.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Conner said, stretching. Tim’s subconscious had also catalogued the fact that at some point in time, Conner had stripped off his shirt. And pants.

 

 

The second time it happened was on an unassuming Saturday, during their movie night. They hadn’t been out on a mission that day, which was surprising, but Tim had stayed up much of the previous night working on multiple cases, various reports for Wayne Tech, and also homework. Needless to say, he’d fallen asleep halfway into the movie, using Conner’s shoulder as a pillow. He didn’t even notice until he had awoken some time later, Conner’s head resting against his own. Apparently Conner was as tired as he was. He thought of moving away, but that would mean waking the other boy who seemed so fast asleep. Tim was just grateful that Bart, Cassie, and Rose were too engrossed in the movie to notice. So instead, he allowed himself to fall asleep once more. His ears blocked out the noise that came from the TV and he was long-acclimatized to Bart’s running commentary so that too was easily filtered. Instead, the only noise Tim could hear was the soft sounds of Conner’s steady breathing, clashing slightly with his own until it synchronized automatically, somehow.

Tim had been astonished at how easily sleep had come to him, then. At first he passed it off for his body just trying to make up for lost hours. Even when he was tried falling asleep was no easy task. Not with a million things running through his mind and a million more nightmares waiting at the edges for the cover of sleep so that they could run amok. But despite the slightly uncomfortable position and less-than ideal setting, Tim once again drifted away from wakefulness as his subconscious dutifully catalogued the way Conner’s arm was very nearly around his waist, holding him close.

He wagered that the close relationship between him and Conner was the reason for his sense of ease. After all, they were best friends. They trusted each other with their lives, quite literally, so it was no wonder that Tim was comfortable enough around Conner to let his guard down and vice versa.

 

 

The third time was in Wayne Manor, where the two of them had been working on a case together. Usually Tim preferred to do these types of things alone, but when Conner had offered assistance, he suddenly found that he couldn’t refuse. Or could, but wouldn’t. In the end, it was a good idea. Conner, despite being of the sort who thought primarily with their fists, had provided valuable insight. He could be quite intelligent when he wanted to, and Tim wondered if it sometimes scared Conner to be smart because the clone always thought that was the Luthor DNA showing.

Tim always insisted that Conner was so unlike Lex Luthor in so many ways. He was loud and boisterous, that much was evidently different (and it was also in contrast with Clark’s relatively quiet and mild-mannered demeanor). He certainly knew how to have a good time and for someone as uptight as Tim, it was nice to have someone who wouldn’t hesitate to pull you away from life and responsibilities once in a while. But Conner also had moments of unspeakable kindness and compassion. Despite his immense Kryptonian strength, he had this tendency to be gentle at the strangest of times. And he was always willing to listen, even to Tim’s weird—if sometimes neurotic—problems and would go out of his way to help solve them. Tim had pondered for hours on end why Conner would bother. He wondered at first if it was out of guilt—the whole dying and being gone for over a year thing—but Conner had done it even before their whole encounter with Superboy-Prime. Tim never really knew what to make of it and those odd gazes Conner would sometimes give him didn’t help. He was good at reading people, but he wasn’t as good as Cass. Although, Tim was in no position to judge. He had his share of weird habits, after all.

Like once more falling asleep in Conner’s presence.

They had laid down on the large bed—fit to hold three or four people comfortably, he wagered—for just a few minutes. The files from the case they were solving were spread out in between them; pictures, charts, witness accounts, everything that Tim had managed to gather over the course of two weeks.

“Man, it’s getting late. Aren’t you tired?” Conner asked, examining two photos he had in his hands. He was lying on his back, the photos held out at arm’s length in the air.

“Not really,” Tim lied. He was lying on his stomach, using a pillow to prop himself up a little, and was paging through the papers. Conner let out a loud yawn, in turn triggering one from Tim to slip out without permission. It was silent, but Conner had seen it and that was enough.

“Aha! You _are_ tried!” he accused. Tim rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his paperwork.

“I never said I wasn’t. I’m just not all _that_ tired.”

“You work yourself way too hard, you know that?”

“It’s been brought to my attention many times, yeah.” Tim said with another yawn. “Besides, how could I sleep now?”

“The case will still be there in the morning. And don’t worry, I’ll keep the monsters away while you’re sleeping,” Conner assured. Tim shot him a look.

“What am I? Five?” Conner just gave him that signature charming grin of his in return and Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more. But he’d made the mistake of resting his chin on the fluffy white pillow because the next thing he knew he was being woken up six hours later by the rays of the morning sun streaming through the big windows.

At some point in the night, the two of them had apparently moved closer in together. Still separated, but Conner’s outstretched arm was interestingly close to his own hand. Instead of being slightly annoyed at himself for falling asleep when the case still needed solving, Tim could only think about Conner’s hand. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Conner’s and marveling as how warm the meta always was. Tim’s hands were usually cold—not too cold, but certainly not enough to be considered warm. And nowhere near how warm Conner’s were. He watched Conner sleep for a little while, feeling it a shame to wake someone up who seemed so peaceful.

Tim’s eyes traced the outline of the muscles on Conner’s arms as his mind thought back to what the boy had said, _“I’ll keep the monsters away.”_ His subconscious had picked up on the tone at which the phrase had been said: lightheartedly but at the same time… like a promise. Was that why Tim felt so comfortable falling asleep whenever Conner was there? Because he trusted Conner to make good on that promise, even if last night was the first time he’d ever said it aloud? Because Conner’s presence was enough to make him feel safe and wanted in ways he couldn’t explain? Tim let the thoughts wander throughout his mind for just a minute before shushing them away back into the appropriate compartments.

No, it was probably just one of those things.

 

 

Tim knew he was seriously in denial when it came to his relationship with Conner. But over the year and half or so that Conner had been gone, he’d gotten really good at lying to himself. He felt something for Conner that ran deeper than friendship and camaraderie. It was something that burned hotter and with more passion than Tim could allow, which is why he’d locked it all away without a label—because then it would mean that he’d have to identify what it was; that it was real.

He wondered if the sudden illness he had come down with had anything to do with the fact that he was so stressed lately (not from work or missions or anything because that was so commonplace to the point where it was odd when he _wasn’t_ ) over his… feelings. As he lay in his bed, sniffling, he had wondered if there was a better term for it—one that didn’t make him feel as pathetic as he already felt, hugging a tissue box to his side.

His thoughts had been the only thing he had to pass the time, seeing as how he didn’t have the energy to cross the room (or even the bed, for that matter) to fetch his laptop. Alfred came by at various intervals to administer him some foul-tasting medicine or to see if he needed anything. The others popped in either to bring him food and force him to eat so that he didn’t wither away, or to just make sure he was still alive. He wondered maybe if he should ask one of them to at least fetch him a book or something the next time they came around. Usually he was content just thinking, but he was unable to focus on anything other than Conner as he drifted in and out of consciousness but unable to really _sleep_ properly. Maybe it was the fever or maybe it was the fact that he longed for Conner’s warmth and mere presence to put him at ease.

And quite suddenly Conner had appeared, standing at the foot of the bed.

Tim thought he was hallucinating; no doubt a side effect of the weird medicine Alfred kept giving him. He blinked, making sure he was actually awake, and realized that it was in fact no mirage. Conner was actually there. Tim figured he must have dozed off again and in the meantime….

“Dick let me in,” Conner had explained, sitting down next to Tim. He slipped his shoes off and put his feet up on the bed, his back resting against the wooden headboard.

“Oh,” Tim said simply, accepting the gift he’d been granted with silent gratitude. He shuffled a little until he was leaning against the headboard too.

"Damn, you look like hell,” Conner said with a smile. He placed a hand over Tim’s forehead—which had, at the time, felt like a strangely intimate gesture for some reason. “You’re burning up!”

“Don’t worry. I have at least three or four more degrees to go before neural demyelination occurs,” Tim shrugged, trying to make a joke. It was true, though, which made it less funny and more scary. He thought he had gotten better at making jokes but apparently….

“That’s sort of a narrow margin,” Conner noticed, pushing back the slightly sweaty strands of hair that were in Tim’s eyes and tucking them behind his ear. Tim tried not to react to that. He prayed that Conner didn’t hear how his heartbeat sped up. If Conner did, Tim knew that he could probably just lie and chalk it up to the fever.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been through worse,” he said as a distraction.

“Yeah that freaks me out sometimes, you know?” Conner said, giving him a strangely pained look. Tim met his eyes but quickly looked away. He didn’t hate being human but sometimes he was all too aware of how fragile life was. If someone as powerful as Conner could be killed, then—no, it was probably better not to think about that. Or about how close Conner was to him, despite the ample space available. He could literally feel the heat radiating off of Conner’s body.

“Why don’t we do something? I mean, you came all the way over here and it’d be a shame if all you got to do was see me being miserable and sleepy. We could play video games.”

“Dude, I came here just to see you, miserable or not. I’d come over even if they told me you were unconscious and unable to interact with other people for the next week.” That made Tim smile. “It’s alright to not do anything sometimes.”

“By now it’s just driving me insane,” Tim said. Not that he was somehow the paragon of sanity or anything. He just hated feeling helpless while work was piling up (even if the others insisted on taking off the load a little).

“Well, hey. At least we can talk.” That much was true, but unfortunately, Tim in his ailing state did not make much for conversation. He fell asleep to the sound of Conner explaining the injustice of getting detention for being late to first period by two minutes because he had to stop a robbery down on Main Street, before tracking down his neighbor’s dog that had gone missing.

The scene to which Tim awoke had been slightly different than the others had been. For one, it was the middle of the night when he woke up and two, he was curled around Conner’s arm as though it was a safety blanket—his arms wrapped around Conner’s well-defined bicep and his hands clutching at the warm skin like it was the only source of heat in an otherwise cold room. Once more, Conner’s presence had allowed him a deep sleep without the threat of an endless string of nightmares. He thought, for the first time in what must have been years, he had actually _dreamt_ —sweet reveries which weren’t of the demons that always haunted him.

He was a little surprised that Conner had neither woken him up nor reclaimed his arm. How safe was it to assume that Conner had fallen fast asleep by then and didn’t notice, Tim had wondered. He was mostly surprised (and nearly panicked) at the fact that his own mind would allow something like that to occur. Surely there were clear boundaries that were not to be crossed. But… their relationship was never straightforward, not even from the moment they had met. And it certainly wasn’t conventional now. They were so relaxed with each other at this point that it was no wonder that the other Titans and Bats had commented on their “intense bromance,” as it had been phrased many, many times. Tim began to wonder why he hadn’t seen it all sooner.

Of course the truth was that he had, but he’d always thought those thoughts were too dangerous to entertain. Now it seemed that _because_ he’d ignored them, tried to pretend they were meaningless, they’d slowly grown into something that was staring him straight in the face—something he couldn’t run from because it had him backed up against a proverbial wall in a position so vulnerable that there he was, literally clinging to his best friend for dear life.

Unsure of what to do—an admittedly alien feeling for someone who always knew what to do in _any_ situation—Tim just let himself have that moment. He couldn’t see Conner’s face because he was facing the other way, but that made it easier to… pretend.

He knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to let himself have this. He could think of hundreds of ways it could all go wrong but, for once, he didn’t want to. For once, he wanted to give in, even if it meant the pain would be greater in the end. And he was so tired.

 

 

Tim was both surprised and frustrated with how _normal_ it was to wake up next to his best friend. They would both act as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary, not even a word in jest. It was as if people did that all the time but the fact of the matter remained that they _didn’t_. Not even people who routinely saved each other’s lives. Tim had been waiting for Conner to say something—anything—about it for _so long_ but the other boy hadn’t made so much as passing mention of it in conversation. Coupled with his own repressed feelings, it was driving Tim up a wall. His subconscious decided that it was time to pull out all the evidence of… whatever it was. The lingering touches, the prolonged gazes, the oddly-timed phrases, the awkward silences, the conversations that might have actually been flirting. Everything.

Maybe… maybe it was better just to tell Conner the truth.

No, that was insanity. There had to be a better way to do this.

But as Tim lay there in the darkness of his room at Titans Tower, the rain battering against the window as if demanding to be let in, he only wanted to do one thing. He resisted the urge for a while, just listening to the thunder and hoping the low rumble would put him to sleep. The storm seemed to be drawing closer, the interval between the lightning and thunder growing shorter while the room was filled the deafening sound of rain against the windowpanes.

Well that was a good enough excuse.

Tim swung himself off the bed, leaving his room behind and soundlessly making his way down the dark hallway until coming to Conner’s door. He knocked softly before entering and shutting the door behind him. He stayed with his back against the structure however, aware that he hadn’t actually been given permission to enter. Conner sat up at the sudden intrusion, but his movements were slow. He yawned before asking, “Tim? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me, alien invasion? Robot invasion? Robot-alien invasion _again_?”

“No, it’s not a mission or anything….” Tim let himself trail off.

“Oh.” Conner looked at him for little while. When Tim stood there, not saying a word, he smirked. “What? Are you afraid of a little thunder and lightning?” The tone wasn’t patronizing as much as it was surprised.

“Not since I was _five_ ,” Tim told him sharply, feeling his face go hot. “The rain’s too loud in my room. Felt like I was stuck in a tin house in the middle of a hurricane.”

"Well, you’re welcome to crash with me,” Conner said as Tim hoped he would, patting the spot next to him on the bed with a dorky, toothy smile that made Tim’s heart beat in a way that couldn’t have been healthy.

“Thanks,” Tim said simply, trying to pretend that his reason was valid and trying to convince himself that Conner’s room was much quieter and more conducive for proper sleep and that was _the only reason_ he was there. It was an important human need, after all—right on the first level of Maslow’s Hierarchy, though Tim never really liked that thing in the first place.

But as soon as he settled in, the blankets warm from Conner’s body heat, all his resolve seemed to melt away. And because Conner hadn’t bothered moving over for some reason, Tim had to be very careful not to brush up against his best friend’s naked torso. He _almost_ let himself do it, too. He could claim plausible deniability if questioned.

Oh no, this was not a good idea. He hadn’t thought this through. He didn’t know if he could put a lid on his emotions for much longer. Engaging in such risky behavior surely meant that the floodgates were buckling under the pressure of his desires.

“Wow, it really is coming down hard,” Conner murmured. Tim cleared his throat, his face going hot again and wondering for a moment if that counted as flirting. They were facing each other, closer together than they probably should have been. Any closer and he’d be able to feel Conner’s minty breath, hot on his face.

"Yeah. Sorry for waking you up,” Tim said.

“Nah. You can crash with me anytime,” Conner said with what Tim thought was a wink. Did that count too?

“I figured I’d ask first.” After all, you didn’t just curl up in bed with your best friend, no matter how close you were. Boundaries and whatnot.

“Well, you’ve got my consent,” Okay, that was definitely flirting. The tone was unmistakable.

“Good to know,” Tim said in response, for lack of anything else. Conner was not very good at subtlety. But what if he was just reading too much into it? Conner could just be fooling around, teasing him or whatever. It might not mean anything.

Conner made a soft humming sound, as if he was pleased with himself for something, complete with a grin. It made Tim’s heart race and he swore to God that Conner must’ve heard it, super-hearing or not.

“Right, um,” Tim started, swallowing with difficulty, “good night.” He quickly flipped over so that Conner wouldn’t see the embarrassing blush that was most certainly spreading across his face. Even if it was dark, Conner’s super-vision would give him away. What had he been thinking when he decided to sneak his way here? Oh, that’s right, he hadn’t been thinking at all—he’d been operating on pure _longing_. Tim mentally kicked himself, reminding his uncooperative mind that this was the reason he always planned things down to the letter, but he was already in this mess. He might as well see it through to morning. And with a bit of luck nothing would go horribly wrong. But this habit of his was getting far too out of hand.

Like Tim expected, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Though this time he must’ve had a nightmare. It was probably due to the violent weather outside. At one point in his life he had in fact been afraid of thunderstorms. As he grew older, he had explained it to himself; broke it all down with science and logic, and convinced himself that there was nothing to be afraid of, like he did with all his fears. The nightmare must have dissipated itself because he couldn’t remember it, but something had woken him up.

A soft caress across his cheek.

He forced himself to pretend like he was still asleep, calling on his most effective meditation techniques to prevent his heart from beating right out of his rib cage. It was probably one of the most difficult things he ever did, considering how Tim was keenly aware that he was tucked up against Conner’s chest as one strong arm held him in place.

“It’s okay Tim, I’m right here,” Conner’s voice was just above a whisper. In a list of things which were normal between best friends, this would _not_ be included. And Tim knew that it certainly wasn’t normal for Conner to kiss his forehead. And definitely not with that much tenderness— _holy shit_.

Boundaries? What boundaries?

Trusting in the fact that the lines between them had been blurred enough so that he could pole-vault from one side to the other, Tim let his eyes flutter open, all the while trying to repress the panic that nearly seized him. Apparently Conner was in a state of restrained panic as well, his eyes going wide for a moment as he moved away ever so slightly. A little voice in the back of his spoke to him then, urging him on, _it’s now or never, Drake, confront the issue_.

“D-Did you just…?” Tim asked, his voice shakier and smaller than he’d meant it to sound. Conner looked at him for a long time, no doubt having his own internal battle, but the panic on his face seemed to slip away and he had this fond, complacent look left.

“Yeah,” he admitted, giving him a sheepish smile before continuing, “I love watching you sleep. It’s like the only time where you don’t look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You look so peaceful. But sometimes you get nightmares. Sometimes they’re really bad but usually they can be fought off by a hug and a few comforting words. You’re a pretty deep sleeper, but I guess trying my luck wasn’t such a good idea.”

“You’ve had worse,” Tim whispered. When Conner didn’t say anything else, he went on to ask, “Why do let me stay with you… like this?”

“Like I said, I like watching you sleep. Creepy, I know, but it’s nice to think that someone trusts me so much. And….” Conner stopped there, as if wondering whether or not to just come clean about it all.

“And what?” Tim urged, trying to quell his rapid heart rate.

“And I could pretend, just for a little while, that….” Conner stopped again, bringing his hand up to rest on Tim’s cheek. Tim could see how scared Conner was to say whatever he wanted to say—and Tim was just as scared, his heart beating so hard that it drowned out the sound of the rain still pounding against the window.

“Go on,” he urged softly, placing his hand over Conner’s.

“I could pretend that you were mine. Just for a little while.” A lightning bolt tore through the sky outside, illuminating the room for just a few moments, allowing Tim to see just how _blue_ Conner’s eyes were. And usually they were so ethereal, filled with so much power and confidence that it sent shivers up his spine. But now they seemed so human and vulnerable.

There was an unfamiliar aching in Tim’s chest.  He wanted to say something but the words died, strangled in his throat, and he was left looking as confused as he felt. Conner mistook his silence for rejection and began to move away, diverting his eyes so that Tim couldn’t see the hurt behind them.

“Wait!” Tim cried urgently, moving with him so that the distance between them didn’t change. “I just—I didn’t think you… even liked guys.”

“Neither did I,” Conner told him honestly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I guess I like guys. I still like girls too, I think, but I like you the most, so…. Uh, what about you?”

Tim felt a giant weight being lifted from him. It left him feeling light and dizzy, and it was probably a good thing he was lying down because he might’ve fallen over if he had been standing. He didn’t know what this feeling was except that it felt _good_. For the first time in a long time he just felt _good_. And he smiled, big and wide until it almost hurt, and said, “Me too, me too—I guess we’re in the same boat.”

Tim was never one for labels so their ambiguity was perfectly fine with him and honestly he didn’t care about any of that right now because all he could think of was how badly he wanted Conner and how badly Conner wanted him and for once everything was working out and he just felt so _happy_.

Conner smiled back at him and laughed; a sound so wonderful that it caused a warmth to surround him completely—or maybe that was Conner’s TTK because he was suddenly being pulled in closer but he was okay with that. Really okay with that. Conner kissed him then and it was everything that Tim had ever hoped it would be—soft and gentle and so _loving_ that it made his heart long for more already. Scattered amongst the nightmares was the dream of this moment and the reality of it was sweeter than he could have ever imagined.

They parted after a long while, and Tim was still savoring it all when Conner spoke. “So does this like—I dunno, mean that we’re… together?” He seemed so hopeful, his eyes twinkling even in the darkness and his smile as dazzling as it would be in the daylight, that it made Tim laugh. “I mean we’re already in bed together.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled as Conner’s smile somehow grew brighter.

“I wanted to come out and tell you but I was afraid of fucking everything up between us,” Conner admitted. It was a fear they both shared.

“You aren’t very subtle though,” Tim said. The mixed signals may not have been the most helpful, but it didn’t matter now. They’d gotten him here, after all, and that was enough.

“Yeah I’m only as subtle as a freight train, I know. I’ll work on it later,” Conner shrugged.

“I think it’s endearing,” Tim said fondly. Conner had a lot of little quirks and they all were just so… _him_.

“Really? Thanks. And I think it’s cute how you like to cuddle. I wouldn’t have thought you were a cuddler, but—”

“I do _not_ —” Tim sputtered, feeling his face going completely red.

“Bullshit!” Conner laughed, “How do you think you ended up curled up against me?”

“I….” How indeed. Tim _had_ been facing the other direction, after all.

“But that’s good, you see, because I really like cuddling,” Conner said, pulling him close again and holding him as if he intended never to let go again. “So you can continue you to use me as your teddy bear—I totally don’t mind.”

“Oh shut up,” Tim said, nuzzling against Conner’s chest and unable to keep the smile out of his voice. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, until Tim broke the silence. “We have a lot to talk about. You know, about _us_. And how to tell the team.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry about that right now. You should get some sleep—God knows you need it. It’s amazing that you sleep at all.”

“You make me feel safe, I suppose. Like I can let my guard down. Which is why it’s so easy for me to fall asleep around you,” Tim admitted. Maybe it was just as simple as that.

Conner kissed his forehead again before whispering, “Sleep. I’ve got you.” Tim allowed himself to settle in again, completely at peace with every part of himself. As he let his eyes fall close, he figured that maybe this habit of his wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
